


Biscuit

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Diet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Mycroft's diet allows him to drink as much tea as he pleases. That also means plenty of biscuits.





	

Being on a diet was not as torturous and unbearable as Mycroft thought. He secretly followed Sherlock's rude advice to _eat less, fatty_ and _no cakes!_ The results were astonishing, two months and he lost a whole pound. Pleased with himself, he paid a visit to his brother to flaunt his now toned body and much slimmer face.

Sherlock must have deduced the reason of Mycroft's presence in his flat and obstinately refused to look at his brother. His excuse was solving another mystery and apparently, sitting curled up in his armchair, completely covered with a blanket helped him concentrate. Mycroft eyed the fluffy cocoon warily, wondering how could Sherlock breathe in there. No matter, Mrs Hudson returned with the tea.

Since his diet began, Mycroft bravely avoided temptations such as cakes and scones. No sweets at all. Fortunately, his diet did not exclude tea. A splash of milk, no sugar and of course, a biscuit or two. That last thing was, obviously, an integral part of a cuppa and not at all a sign of Mycroft's addiction to sugary treats. The ritual of careful dunking biscuits in the brew was calming, that was all. Mycroft politely thanked Mrs Hudson and only when she was gone did he glance down at the tea tray. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief. He saw the following: a pot, a jug of milk, a sugar bowl and nothing more. No biscuits! Not even an old, broken one. 

For a moment he waited for Mrs Hudosn to correct her mistake but it soon became apparent that her action was intentional. Ugh, one _shut up_ and years of consequences!

Mycroft contemplated the situation. He has such a strong craving for a nice cup of tea and abhorred the idea of wasting a perfectly good brew but no biscuits? He took a look at Sherlock, who seemed to be either in a trance or sleeping. Mycroft decided to take the risk and walked into his brother's kitchen.

Minding not to touch too many things, he searched the contents of cupboards. He managed not to find anything in the state of decomposition, that was a success. When he spotted a familiar packet, he immediately knew it had been opened for at least a decade and the biscuits went soft but they would do. He took two.

Five minutes later, Sherlock suddenly jumped up, the blanket fell on the floor. That was the only thing that protected his modesty. Mycroft sighed silently, that was the second time that month that he saw his brother's skinny bum. Baby brothers never grow up, do they?

'Of course!' Sherlock exclaimed, excited. 'The butler did it!'

He ran to his room, hopefully to get dressed. Mycroft saw it as an opportunity to help himself to two more biscuits. They were not that bad, considering in whose kitchen he found them.

Sherlock emerged, fully clothed, furiously typing a text to Watson or Lestrade. Mycroft swallowed the last bit of the last biscuit, satisfied.

'You might as well finish them all, fatty,' Sherlock said, uncouth as always and pointed to the tiny crumbs on Mycroft's tie that no one else would notice. 'Diabetes.'

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, doing his best to look intimidating but Sherlock was already running down the stairs. Well, wasting food, even past its expiration date, was against Mycroft's morals. He did finish that sad, ancient packet of biscuits, just to end its misery.

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft is so precious and hot. And definitely not fat.


End file.
